Snapshots Of A Perfect Life
by Konsui's Little Brother
Summary: If one stopped to look at the fragments then they would see a life not as perfect as it seemed to be. On both sides and in different ways, their lives are far from perfect. Others don't see it. But together, they might just make a whole.


Honestly, Neville didn't know how he'd been pulled into the conversation. It was something that should have been taking place solely between the three friends. Not between the trio _plus_ the boy they spoke to when they were bored.

It was more personal then that.

But Harry had pulled both Ron and Hermione over to him almost an hour ago. After shoving both of his friends onto the couch, Ron on one side of Neville and Hermione on the other, Harry had dropped himself down on the floor in front of them with an ordered 'go at it'.

The Gryffindor Common Room hadn't been silent since then. Ron was furious at Hermione, Hermione beyond mad at Ron. Harry looked almost amused at the two of them, as they flung insults across Neville's lap. As if he wasn't there and it was an empty couch cushion in between them. Which was fine because, if he didn't actually have to talk to them, then it was easier to just ignore them both.

And then suddenly Ron was flinging an arm out, almost smacking Neville in the face when he did, and jabbing a finger at Hermione. "Why don't you stop for a bit and look at Neville, huh? He's an okay kid!"

"What does Neville have to do with anything?" Hermione shouted. Her face was bright red, eyes puffy and bloodshot. Even Neville, who had virtually no experience with the subject, could tell that she was close to tears.

For a moment, Ron looked like he was about to shout something back. Then he glanced at Neville, who was staring at him with wide, confused eyes and his mouth snapped shut with an audible clack. An almost embarrassed look crossed his face and he shifted in his seat so that he wasn't looking at any of his fellow housemates.

"Exactly!" Hermione spat out. "Neville doesn't have anything to do with this! Why would he? It's not his parents that are thinking about a divorce, Ron, it's mine!"

And then the words they'd been shouting made sense. The two Gryffindors had been arguing about Hermione's recent change of attitude. One that had come about at the very start of term, back when they were still on the train taking them to Hogwarts for their Third Year.

Personally, Neville thought that was why she was taking so many classes that year. Between the daunting thought that when she went back home at the end of the year she might go home to a broken family and the fact that there were Dementors at the school, she needed something to focus on. It was understandable even if her attitude wasn't desirable.

What _wasn't_ understandable was why Ron had said what he did.

Neville knew for a fact that Ron was talking about his parents. It was the only reference that the red-head could have been making. And it was one that he should _not_ have been made. And Ron knew that. All the kids from pure blooded families knew that; they'd all read the reports in the paper and heard the announcements when it was revealed that his parents would never recover.

Face pulling into a frown, Neville ignored the muttered apology from Ron (one that Hermione took to be directed at herself) and stood up. "I'm going to bed."

They didn't see him for the rest of the night and when he came down to breakfast the next morning, he seemed just a little bit less friendly.

_**~X~**_

Neville's Fourth Year passed by quickly. He spent most of it trying to keep his head down and stay out of Moody's line of vision; a more difficult task than one would think. But there was something horribly _off_ about the scarred professor.

He didn't get why no one else noticed it.

They didn't, though. That was obvious. Sure, there were students that didn't like him. There were even more that didn't like his style of teaching. _McGonnagle_ didn't like the way that Moody taught. None of them said anything though. They all just thought he was a little odd.

Neville knew that 'being a little odd' wouldn't even begin to cover what Moody was. Would never explain away the _gleeful_ look that crossed the mans face whenever he spoke about the Forbidden Curses or the joyful lilt his voice would take on when he gave his speeches about 'constant vigilance'. Those weren't the words of someone that was a little bit off. No. Those were the words of someone that was completely off their rocker. It was the look of a mad man, and that was something that Neville could recognize quite well.

Perhaps that was why it didn't come as a surprise to him when Moody transformed Draco into a ferret. When he slammed a student into the ground, over and over and _over_, while everyone else just watched. While Harry and Ron and Hermione stood by and let it happen, _enjoyed_ watching it happen.

It didn't matter that Draco had said some unsavory things to the trio or to the rest of the Gryffindors. It still wasn't right to just let Moody do that to him.

That was why when Neville saw Goyle a few minutes later, doing his best to support a limp and pale Draco, he didn't even have to debate on it. He just went over and helped; throwing Draco's other arm over his shoulder, giving the boy that had been one of his biggest tormentors a little smile, and helped haul the unconscious blond up to the Hospital Wing.

It wasn't the last time that he and Draco ran into each other that year.

**~X~**

For a while, the Room Of Requirements had been Neville's sanctum. It was the only place that he could go and be as close to himself as he'd allow. There, in that room, surrounded by his fellow students, he could actually _work_. No nerves, no anxiety, Snape or Umbridge or Gran to look down on him and tell him that he wasn't doing good enough.

It was the closest thing to peace that he'd had in a long, long time.

But, like everything else, it was ripped out from beneath Neville just as he was getting accustomed to it. Just as he started to relax, started to really become _good_ at spell work, some told Umbridge what was going on. And in one swoop both his sanctum and his headmaster were taken from him.

The other students fell back. They stopped meeting, stopped practicing, stopped studying. They just _stopped_. And Neville almost did too. He almost joined them in their mourning. Until he went out to the green houses one day, to Green House Number Three, and saw Draco sitting against the wall of the building, a thick volume on potions in his hands.

It wasn't an uncommon sight, actually. Over the past few months the two had become friends of sort. At least, Neville considered them friends now. He wasn't entirely sure what Draco thought of it all as the blond never said and Neville, content with the small conversations they had about other things, never brought it up.

But something was different that day and Neville went inside without saying a word to the Slytherin. Crossing the room, relishing in the muggy heat of the building and the heady scent of soil and plants, Neville snatched his dragon hide gloves off one of the back shelves and slid them on.

It was only a few seconds before he heard the door open again and Draco slip inside the building.

"What has your robes in a twist, Longbottom?" Draco drawled, pushing the door shut behind it and leaning against it.

"The D.A.'s officially broken up." Neville told him. Of course, that wasn't it. It was just the beginning. Just the tip of the iceberg, as Dean was fond of saying.

Draco arched a thin eyebrow. "I know it is. _Everyone_ knows it is. Umbridge announced it at lunch. Not that you would know, seeing as you were absent."

Neville didn't bother to answer the unasked question. He usually did. Actually, he usually rambled and stumbled over his words and got horribly off topic whenever the two spoke. Instead, he countered it all with an actual question. "You know that Bellatrix is out, right?"

The Slytherin boys face dropped. Lips pulled into a thin line, eyes only narrowed slightly, he gave a sharp nod. "What about her?"

For a moment, Neville felt bad for bringing the Death Eater up. As far as he'd been able to gather, Draco didn't want anything to do with the woman. But Neville had to get it out. He had to tell _someone_ and there wasn't anyone else to tell.

"I'm not going to stop practicing. I don't care if it's not in the D.A. I'm still going to get better at magic and then I'm going to fight her." It was a simple statement. A simple fact. Nothing more. But it still made Neville smile when Draco nodded at him and sat down in the corner of the green house, opening his book back up and going back to reading.

They didn't speak for the rest of the break.

**~X~**

"Draco?" Neville's voice, soft and gentle, bounced off of the walls of the normally abandoned room.

Myrtle had moved up to the Girls Bathroom on the Second floor, moaning and complaining to everyone that would listen about being tired of watching other people cry. That was the only reason that the Gryffindor boy had slipped away from Dean and Seamus, and easier feat than he liked to think about, and made for the Third Floor bathroom.

It was just a fluke that it wasn't a First Year he stumbled upon, but Draco.

The blond was over in the far corner of the room, sitting against the wall lined with sinks. Both legs were pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around his knees, and chin resting on top of them. Even from the door, Neville could see the dark circles around the boys bloodshot eye and how his skin was an unhealthy looking pallor.

Draco didn't look up at him. Didn't even acknowledge that he was there. The boy just kept staring at the stone wall across from him, as though the answers to whatever was wrong would be found there.

Crossing the room, the door sliding shut behind him with just the slightest of crashes, Neville dropped himself onto the floor next to Draco. It was cold and, within seconds, he could feel his robes grow damp from the moisture on the stone floor. "You okay, Draco?"

Neville expected a snarky comment. Maybe, if the slightly older boy was feeling really desperate, even a sarcastic version of what had happened. He wasn't expecting Draco to turn and bury his head into Neville's arm, grabbing onto his robe with shaking hands, and let out what came very close to being called a strangled _sob_.

Draco spoke, words garbled and broken, and Neville listened. Tugged him closer and wrapped his arms around the too-thin and trembling frame. Heard the truth and nodded, because he had already known that Draco wanted nothing to do with Voldemort, and held no grudge against him for it.

But he didn't tell the other boy that it would be okay because Neville didn't know if it really would be.

**~X~**

"Thank you, Neville." Harry reached across the table and grabbed a hold of Neville's hand, grasping it tight between his own. It was only there for a moment, though, before Neville had jerked it away. The look on the Longbottom heirs face resembled one that had just been burnt.

Neville tugged the hand that Harry had touched up to his chest. "Sorry." He muttered. It was clear he didn't mean it though. He rarely meant anything that he said to Harry anymore, even if the other boy didn't realize that.

"No, uh, I'm sorry. I...forgot...that you don't like being touched right now." Harry looked away from Neville. His light green eyes found purchase on the rafters of the ceiling instead of on his companion.

That thought still evaded him. Even after five months, Harry still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that one of his oldest friends now loathed to be touched. But magic had not been the only weapon the Carrows had in their arsenal and it had affected Neville more than it had others.

"It's fine." Neville let both hands sink back into his lap. Leaning back in his chair, he waited until Harry looked back at him. "Listen, Harry, I don't want to be rude or anything but  
>I'm supposed to be meeting someone soon. Did you need me for something?"<p>

Harry started to nod but then stopped and shook his head. "Not really. I just...I wanted to thank you, you know? For supporting me back while I was looking for the Horocruxes."

And he just couldn't help the chuckle, bitter and short, that escaped from him. Neville closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them, it was to a look of confusion on Harry's face.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked, leaning forward onto the table.

"You." Neville shook his head again, rolling his eyes at the Potter Prodigy. "You're what's funny, Harry."

Harry blinked. "Me? _Why_?"

"Because," Neville explained, voice even and almost cold. "I wasn't supporting you."

The silence that settled over the table then was thick enough that it could have been cut with a knife. Harry was staring at him with a look similar to betrayal, mouth hanging open and words caught in his throat before they could even be spoken. So Neville spoke for him. "Listen, Harry, it's not that I wasn't supporting what you were doing. I was just supporting it for people _other _than you."

"People 'other than me'?" Harry echoed.

And Neville just chuckled again. The bell at the door rang, signaling a new patron in the restaurant. He didn't have to look to know who it was either. An earlier look at the clock had told him that his boyfriend would be arriving soon. For once, it seemed that he was on time.

Not bothering to finish the bottle of butterbeer that Harry had ordered for him earlier, Neville stood up from the table. "Yeah. People besides you"

"Like-like who?" Harry demanded. There was just a hint of annoyance in his words then and Neville found himself rolling his eyes.

"Like everyone that you thought had a perfect life." There wasn't any accusation in Neville's voice. Just the truth. "Because I can tell you that the more perfect their lives seemed, the more fucked up they were."

For a few long moments, Harry just stared at him. By the time he'd pulled himself together enough to actually say anything, though, Neville had already started walking away from the table. Away from Harry and towards the blond haired boy standing by the bar.

"It's about time." Draco drawled. "I was beginning to think that you were just going to leave me standing over here while you chatted with Potter."

Neville gave a soft smile and gentle laugh, different from the laughter and the smiles that he'd exchanged with Harry, and wrapped an arm around Draco's shoulders, tugging the boy flush to his side. There was no hesitance when he touched Draco like there was when he touched everyone else. But there wasn't any confidence in the motion either.

It just was.

And when Draco, cheeks tinged red but eyes gleaming with something that Harry had never seen in them before, batted his arm off him Neville just laughed again. Laughed and leaned down to capture Draco's mouth with his.


End file.
